


Strikesgiving 2020

by meansovermotive



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Action & Romance, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Banter, F/M, Fluff, Missing Scene, Troubled Blood Spoilers, bedside declaration, missing fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:27:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 12,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27334903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meansovermotive/pseuds/meansovermotive
Summary: What a great idea was to continue the fun of Striketober, thanks so much to who made the prompts :))This time I will try to follow the prompt order, and make them shorter (although not exactly drabbles). Not sure that I will be able to do them all, though!
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 122
Kudos: 90
Collections: Strikesgiving 2020





	1. "Close the door"

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> I only did like half of the Striketober prompts so I've no idea why I think this time will be different lol but I'll try again, and intend to follow the prompt order too! Mostly because Striketober was so much fun! :))
> 
> Also happy to have joined the discord group today, thank you for welcoming me and for all the encouragement here! This really seems like a wonderful community!
> 
> And since I updated my profile yesterday, if anyone is confused: I was writing under @citizenofdoubt before, but figured this username is a better fit! :))
> 
> Hope you enjoy this!

“Close the door”, said Robin in a whisper, as Strike entered their office.

He did, then raised an eyebrow at her.

“What exactly are you thinking, Ellacott? This is a place of work, I’ll let you know.”

She rolled her eyes.

“ _I think they know”_ , she hissed.

“About…”

“About us, of course”.

“Hm”, he said. “Why do you think so?”

“Something’s… off. It’s like they have a private joke or something”, she said, annoyed.

Strike pondered for a moment.

“Would it bother you?” She stared at him, confused. “If they knew?”

“Oh”, she said, surprised. “No, I suppose… it wouldn’t, actually”. She’d thought that he would be, though.

“Okay. I’ll grab us some lunch, then. See me out?” She frowned for a moment, before understanding hit her.

“Good idea”, she grinned.

In the outer office, Pat, Barclay and Michelle, who had been whispering excitedly, went silent as the door opened to reveal Strike and Robin, who followed each of the employees gaze drop to their joined hands.

“See you later then, love”, said Strike, planting a longer than necessary kiss on Robin’s lips. He then nodded to the three of them, smirking at their equally dumbfounded expressions.

Silently, they watched him leave, then turned their eyes to Robin, who was by the inner office’s door, her arms crossed and eyebrow raised.

“Anything else that you need?” she asked, defiantly.

They shook their heads. With a smirk, she returned to her office and closed the door, noticing that she’d received two text messages.

**_No fucking chance I’d give them the satisfaction. You’ll have to describe their faces later, though. C x_ **

**_Also, since you got to see it, you owe me. C x_ **

Smiling, she responded,

**_You’ll get a full account. And I’m sure I can think of something. R x_ **


	2. "I'm not going anywhere".

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for the cute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whatever happened to making the chapters shorter, already?

Strike was cuddled with Robin in front of the telly, both basking in that feeling of warm content they were still getting used to. It was so new, so unbelievable, it felt somehow elusive, like it could disappear at any minute.

Except perhaps that wasn’t exactly true at that precise moment, for he had his brow furrowed and kept stealing glances at her.

Though she had been looking at the tv, she turned to him.

“Is something wrong?”

“Um?” Strike pretended to be watching the program.

“Cormoran. We’ve talked about this.”

He sighed.

“Okay”, he said, repositioning himself on the couch so he could look at her.

He considered his words for a moment, and then asked, in a quiet voice,

“Robin…You know you’re free to do whatever you want, right?”

Her eyebrows shot up.

“Um… yes? It’s the XXI century?”

“No, I mean…” he casted for the right words. “You know that if you were to… leave, to do something else…that it would be okay, right?”

Those, thought Strike a second later, were clearly not the right words.

Robin sat up, an anxious expression in her face.

“Leave? Cormoran, is something wrong at the agency? D’you think it’s not working anymore? What—“

He put a hand in her arm.

“No, love, no, you got me wrong. Again.” He raised his eyebrows and stared into her eyes. She frowned. “Look”, he said, sighing. “There’s nothing wrong at the agency. Quite the opposite. I’ve just been thinking…” He paused. “You’re just _much too bloody talented_ , Ellacott, do you actually realize that? The career you could have if you were to join the Met, for instance… You’d go so, so far.” He shook his head. “And, you know, I’ve already had that. But you haven’t, and you absolutely _could_ … if you wanted to. I just, uh… I don’t want you to think that because we’re now… _together_ , that it in any way binds you to the agency, is all. I just want to make it perfectly clear that _whatever_ you wanted to do… I’d support you, no matter what. I’d be there with you”. He said this in a matter-of-fact tone, and then, with a shrug, concluded, “That’s all”.

Robin stared at him, touched and incredulous in equal measure.

“Cormoran”, she started in a quiet voice. “I don’t want to leave. I thought you knew that”. He started again, but she interrupted. “I _know_ that I could”, she continued, “and I know it because of you. I also know that you would support me – I’d never doubt that.” She paused. “But I…simply don’t want to. What we do together… it’s not only _what_ we do, it’s that we do it _together_ , do you understand?”

“’f course I do”, he nodded, serious.

“I get to do what I love with you, Strike... I wouldn’t trade that for anything”. She smiled. “No need to worry. I’m not going anywhere”.

Strike let out a sigh of relief.

“Good”, he said, and then, a grin in the corner of his mouth, he continued, “’Cause dissolving the partnership would be a paperwork nightmare. And I’d probably go bankrupt.”

“Oh, so _that’s_ what you concerned about, is it?” she said, raising her eyebrow and slapping him lightly in the chest.

He looked at her, fondly.

“You know it’s not” he said quietly.

She smiled and settled against his chest.

“I do”.

They were silent for a moment.

“Cormoran?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you for saying that, though. And for meaning it. It means a lot to me.”

He kissed the top of her head.

“Anything”.

There it still was, Strike thought, that elusive feeling. It too, he knew then, was not going anywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way - it may be just me (and sorry for ruining the cute vibe) but I actually completely visualize RG making Robin leave the agency at least for a book, to make her have the experience and be sure of what she wants.


	3. "I feel like I can't breathe"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strike knows he'll just have to get used to some things, now - but not everything is like he thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one stumped me a bit, so I just hope it isn't too much nonsense in the way it's described.
> 
> Also I'm not sure if we're ever told how was the first time Strike rode a car while awake after the accident, but I figured it would be still with the military, since he needed to get to the UK, etc?

Whatever Strike expected for when he was inside a vehicle again, it certainly wasn’t this.

 _I feel like I can’t breathe_ , he thinks, surprised, his chest moving with difficulty. He half expects to look down and see a ton of bricks on top of it.

The car changed lanes in a quick movement.

_Calm the fuck down. Calm down. It’s just a fucking car. Nothing’s going to happen this time._

They stop in the traffic lights.

_Okay, now, you know how to do this. You’re good at this. Just breathe._

One, two, long inspirations.

_Just fucking breathe._

Finally, they arrive at their destination, but he can’t leave the car yet. He needs help, now. He breathes.

“You alright, mate?”

He’s out of the car.

“Yeah, yeah. Fine”.

 _Fucking fantastic,_ he thinks. _Lose a bloody leg, and can’t even ride a fucking car without having a panic attack._

They carry him in the chair, and he is angry. At what, exactly, he’s not sure -- _life_ feels too generic. What’s the point on being angry at something you can’t yell at?

But he eventually regains his grip, and he tries to find a solution, because that’s what he does.

 _It’s being driven, that’s what it is_ , he thinks. _I’ll be able to drive, I figure… as long as it’s an automatic, anyway,_ he thinks, and despite himself, he half chuckles.

Then he sighs.

_I’ll never trust anyone to drive me again, though. That’s for fucking sure._

There are things, he knows, he just will have to accept.


	4. "Did you hear that?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick and Ilsa discuss their stubborn 'couple' (are they?) of friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting a little early for tomorrow's, hope that's okay!

As soon as Strike and Robin were safely out the door, Ilsa turned to her husband.

“Did you hear that?” she asked, barely containing her excitement.

“What?” asked Nick, gathering the dirty plates from the dinner table.

“They’re together, Nick!”

He turned to her, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Hm… I think I’d remember hearing that, babe.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I can’t believe you didn’t notice! You men, honestly… you never notice anything!”

Nick sighed.

“Fine, I’ll bite. What was I supposed to have noticed?”

“They were talking between them, about something they have to check for a case” Ilsa promptly offered, “then Robin said… _‘we’ll have to look at it… at home’_.” She looked at him, triumphant.

Nick, however, stared blankly at her.

“Robin said”, repeated Ilsa, exasperated, _‘we’ll have to look at it at home’_. At home, Nick, like she’s spending her nights at his place!” She sounded incredulous at her husband’s indifference.

“Yeah… I don’t know, Ils” he said, doubtful. “I think it’s the lawyer in you talking... searching for contradictions and stuff. You do realize those two practically live in that office, right?” He raised his eyebrow.

“It would be one thing if _he_ had said that, because he does live above the office”, Ilsa said. “But Robin? No… It doesn’t make sense. If she was talking about the agency, she wouldn’t have said _‘home’_ ” _._

“Fair point…” he paused, frowning. “ _Only_ ”, he added, excitedly, “if Robin hadn’t meant the agency… then it means that they have whatever they needed to look at… _at home_.”

It was Ilsa’s time to stare at him.

“Uh… Yeah, Nick. That’s exactly what I said.”

“No, you don’t get it, babe”. Nick shook his head. “Think about it: Who would even take stuff – _murder_ stuff, for all _I_ know -- home, if they lived one flight of stairs from their office… and spent all their time there, anyway? Can you even _imagine_ Oggy and Robin in his flat, just going over files together… at night…” he slowed his speech, then stopped.

The couple looked at each other for a moment, then Nick shook his head, defeated, as Ilsa broke into a victorious grin.

“Yep”, he said. “You’re right”.

“ _Of course_ I am”, she said, raising her eyebrow. Then, going to her husband, she planted a kiss in his cheek. “You’re getting better, though, sweetie. Even realized your mistake before betting against me, this time.”

He chuckled.

“Betting against you is one thing...” he said. “Against Oggy and Robin being a thing, though? I’d have to be crazier than _those_ two…”


	5. "Are you finished with those?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It appears the consequences of that Valentine's day row are still coming up...

“Ahh”, said Strike, stretching his arms above his head. Slapping his hand lightly in his desk, he asked Robin, who was absorbed looking at some files:

“Time for tea?”

She looked up.

“Are you offering?”

“Indeed I am”.

She smiled.

“Sure, then. Thanks”.

“Good”, he said, standing up, “you’ve stared at those for too long. Time for a break. Also, I’m hungry.”

“Oh”, said Robin, in a regretful voice.

“What?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Um… we’re out of biscuits”.

Strike made a face of outrage.

“ _I_ didn’t—“

Robin rolled her eyes.

“I _know_ ”, she interrupted. “It was Sam. He came around yesterday, starving, because he’d had to extend his shift. Demolished the tin.”

Strike scowled.

“Bloody subcontractors” he said. “Start to discount from their payroll, we’ll see—“

“ _Cormoran!”_

He suppressed a grin.

“Fine. Not here who said it.” He shrugged.

Robin stared at him pointedly, her eyebrows raised.

“And they’ve the right to have biscuits at the office” Strike added, unwillingly. Then he eyed her.

“Aren’t _you_ hungry, though?”

“Oh”, she said, “I have my almond mix.”

Strike smirked.

“What?”

“Nothing, uh… enjoy. Be back with the tea soon.”

A few minutes later he was back, carrying two cups of tea in a tray. He put it in between their jointed tables, while Robin munched on her almonds, still concentrated in her work.

“Thanks”, she said, taking her cup.

Sitting down and taking a sip of his cup, he eyed Robin and asked, slowly,

“So… are you finished with those?”

Robin’s head snapped up.

“Are you actually asking me… for _these_?” she stared at him, incredulous.

Strike grinned.

“Not really”, he said. “Thought you might be interested in something a little more interesting” he said, and then produced from his desk drawer… a tin of biscuits.

Robin’s eyebrows shot up.

“ _Cormoran Strike_ ” she said. “You _knew_ we were out of biscuits?”

“Yep.”

“And you actually got and hid another tin… _for yourself?_ ” she asked, indignantly.

Strike frowned.

“Not for _me_ ”, he said. “For _us_ ”.

Only them Robin realized they were of the fancy kind… and her favorite brand. She stared speechless at the tin for a moment.

“Figured being the bosses, we deserve a little upgrade, eh?” He asked, looking at her with an amused expression. “Don’t worry though, I got the regular kind for the office too, this morning.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Thanks, Cormoran”, Robin said slowly. “That’s… really thoughtful.”

He shrugged.

“Part of the job, too, ain’t it?”

She smiled.

“Yeah. I suppose so.”

“So”, he continued, extending the open tin to her. “You do the honors, then”.

Robin eyed the appetizing biscuits, and then returned her gaze to her almond mix, unsure.

Strike shook his head.

“C’mon, Ellacott” he said, teasing. “You won’t disappoint me, now, will you?”

He grinned.

She sighed, giving in, a smile playing in her lips.

 _This thing for biscuits_ , she thought, _is getting a little dangerous._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I am all for healthy eating habits, myself, but - was it just me that while reading of Robin eating only but almonds and stuff on TB, kept asking myself, "girl, why??"


	6. "It's okay, you didn't know."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the good and the bad, right?
> 
> (Don't worry, though, this is going for cute not angst lol)

Strike reclined in his chair.

“So I guess that means it’s another one closed, eh?” he asked in a satisfied tone, intertwining his fingers behind his head.

“I guess it is”, responded Robin, suppressing a yawn.

“We outdid it this week, really. Well – you did, anyway. Three in four, all your ideas” He grinned. “We should celebrate, I think. Up for the Tottenham?” He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Robin felt really sad to have to disappoint him.

“Oh, Cormoran. I’m sorry. Not up for it today.”

He frowned.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s okay. I’m okay. I mean, it’s—Rowntree.” Her voice faltered slightly. “He… passed. Earlier this week.” She’d wished to avoid this exact situation, but couldn’t help the tears prickling in her eyes.

Strike stared at her.

“Shit, Robin. I’m so sorry. And I ask you to celebrate, Christ…”

She shook her head.

“It’s okay, you didn’t know.”

He frowned.

“Why didn’t you say anything, though?” he asked. “You could have taken time off—“

“Yeah”, she interrupted. “I know I should have said something, but I didn’t want to… didn’t want to…” She paused, her voice wobbling a bit. Wiping tears in the corner of her eyes, she said, “Well, this. And you know that being without work would be the last thing I would've wanted.”

He nodded.

“Are you okay?” 

She sighed.

“I mean… Yeah? We sort of knew it was coming, but it’s still, you know…” She looked at him. “Really sad.”

“I know”, he said, and then paused, pondering. “Well”, he said slowly, “since celebrating feels out of order… how about we commiserate, then?”

She looked at him, raising one eyebrow.

“What do you have in mind?”

“I've three options” he said resolutely, before counting off his fingers. “Option 1: Whisky. Option 2: Ice cream. Option 3: Neither.”

Robin frowned.

“Do you even have ice cream here?” she asked, casting an eye around the office.

“Nope. But I do upstairs”. _Oh_ , thought Robin. “Whisky is just right here, though”, he continued, indicating his drawer.

She nodded.

“And option three…?”

He shrugged.

“Option three” he explained, “is in case you don’t want a grumpy bastard lowering your spirits even more, and would rather just go home”. A grin played in the corner of his lips.

Robin let out a light chuckle. Strike grinned wider, like he’d accomplished his goal.

“So. Which one is it?” He asked, looking at her with his eyebrows raised.

Robin considered her options for a moment, a very subtle hint of a smile in her lips.

She’d been completely ready to go home a few minutes ago, but somehow, that possibility had lost its appeal since.

The whisky… was a very strong candidate, indeed -- for reasons, she suspected, had very little to do with drowning her sorrows in alcohol and very much to do with the last time they had drank it in his office. Robin sensed perhaps those memories were in the front of Strike’s mind, as well.

But something about the idea of Strike inviting her to have ice cream with him, as a way to mourn her adored Labrador…

“Option 2”, said Robin, her smile marginally wider.

Strike smiled too.

“Thought you might choose that” he said, getting up from his chair. “C’mon. Mint Chocolate Chip awaits.” He tilted his head in the direction of the door, and then offered his hand to help raise her, a fond expression in his eyes, which were crinkly from his smile.

Robin suddenly felt better than she had in days.

Taking up his hand, she said,

“So do I get a silly cop movie with this combo, or what?”

Leading her, his hand now in the small of her back, he grinned.

“I know just the one”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about Rowntree :((
> 
> In my mind they are going to watch The Nice Guys, which I think Strike would find HILARIOUS. 
> 
> I accept opinions or info re: Strike's taste for ice cream.


	7. “Hold my hand” + “Can we just stay here?” + “I can’t believe you remembered”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin had been distracted lately, and it is cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got super behind and I'm super swamped, but still want to try and do them all lol so here's 3 prompts in this little bit of nonsense

“Ugh”, sighed Robin, from her side of the car. “Can’t believe I forgot my gloves in the Land Rover again, and it’s bloody freezing outside.” She’d been quite warm until them, in the interior of Strike’s BMW, but they had arrived at their destination and she would now have to get out in the freezing weather.

Worse still, she realized with mortification that the last time she’d done that, Strike had offered to take her hands in his to warm them.

 _Oh God,_ she thought. _What if he thinks I did it on purpose?_

Desperate, she risked a glance at her partner and asked,

“Can we just stay here?”

Strike chuckled, turning off the engine.

“Not particularly tempted to go outside, myself”, he said, turning to her with his eyebrows raised, “But you know we need a better vantage point if we want to surprise him.”

Robin sighed.

“Yeah, I know”, she said, resigned. “Let’s go, then”, she continued, reaching for the door handle.

“I might, however” said Strike, “have something to help you.” She turned to him, curious. “Check out the glove compartment.”

Frowning, she opened the small compartment and found what looked like a ‘surveillance kit’, complete with a couple of Twix bars, tea bags, a crossword puzzle, and… a pair of gloves, definitely much too small for Strike’s bear-like hands.

Taking them, she stared silently at the piece of wool, remembering a joke he’d made in that other occasion.

“I can’t believe you remembered”, she said quietly.

“Can’t have you freezing while on the job, now, can we?” He grinned.

“And now I won’t” she said, and then looked at him with a smile. “Thank you, Cormoran. Really”.

She left the car feeling indeed deeply touched, but that, she knew, wasn’t all. She couldn’t help but wonder if his actual intentions had been in fact avoiding the repetition of the previous situation. She felt disconcerted and, if she was being honest, quite a bit disappointed.

“Did it work?” asked Strike, looking down at her while they walked.

“Huh?” she asked, only then realizing she had been rubbing her hands together. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, all good now”.

He shook his head, grinning.

“Do you think you can fool me, Ellacott?” He asked, raising one eyebrow. “C’mon. Hold my hand.” And before she could even try to argue, he took hers in his.

“Thanks”, she said quietly, trying and failing to suppress a smile, the warmth she now felt in her hands somehow also making its way through her chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I SWEAR I only realized that thing was called a 'glove compartment' when I was writing it, but couldn't think of another place for him to keep it (wonder why that is...)
> 
> (And no, it's not even a language thing because it's the same here, it's just me being thick really lol)


	8. "I don't plan to stop" + "Tell me again" + "We have to be quiet" (A)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse at the missing fight in TB.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,
> 
> I hadn't planned on writing this scene, especially after we got that pitch perfect version done by @Kate88, but I read the prompts and it was all I could think about.
> 
> However, I completely forgot that Robin stormed out until I was well into it, so I ended up with 2 versions lol, one of them being a "fix-it" of sorts. Thought it might interest someone, so decided to post both!
> 
> The one in this chapter is the book-accurate version, and in the next there's the alternative. The beginning for both is the same. 
> 
> It's 3 in 1, too, because I got behind again (also, I kinda like doing more prompts in one story, it's a bit like a puzzle).
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

“Tell me again”, said Strike through his teeth. His rage was contained, but noticeable all the same - his working jaw and tense posture gave it away, as did the clenched fists resting on his desk, which now supported the full weight of his body.

“I already told you everything”, responded Robin, irritated. She was standing on the other side of their desk, and despite doing quite clearly a better job of hiding her anger, she was boiling up inside. “I don’t understand why you need to hear it again.”

“No, you don’t _fucking understand_ , do you?” he said, his voice louder with each word. “I need to be fucking _sure”,_ he continued, angrily, _“_ that we won’t have the bloody mafia knocking at our door. That a difficult concept to grasp, is it?”

Robin shot him a cool stare.

“We need to be quiet, Strike”, she said, her voice level. “The staff…”

“Oh, so _now_ you’re concerned with the bloody staff, are you?”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Robin asked, indignantly, her nostrils flaring. “If _anyone_ here shows any concern, I’m pretty sure that –“

Strike snorted, but there was no joy in his laugh.

“Ah, _that”_ , he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Yeah, Robin, now that’s just a _perfect fucking time_ to discuss the staff’s touchy-feely needs! When we’re discussing how your reckless actions might have put all of them, of us, in danger!”

She finally lost her temper, a red color now spreading through her face.

“And by reckless actions, I suppose you mean doing my job!”

“Oh yeah, your grand job of saving the whole bloody world, right?” he snarled.

Robin felt as if she’d been slapped.

“You know _perfectly well_ ”, she said in a high pitch, her finger raised, “that my visit to Ricci was strictly about the case. So there’s really no point for you to bring _that_ up, unless it’s to purposefully hurt me.”

That seemed to hit Strike deeply. He closed his eyes to try to compose himself, breathing heavily. Still, the mere thought of Robin’s actions were enough to engulf him in anger and drown out any flicker of regret at his previous words. He looked squarely at her.

“Seems like you’ll achieve that bloody well on your own, anyway.”

Disbelief and hurt washed over Robin. She swallowed heavily, feeling tears prickle in the corner of her eyes, and then said in a stern, cool voice,

“You know where I stand about the risks at this job, Strike. You knew that _bloody well_ three years ago. So if it _somehow_ wasn’t clear before, I’ll make it now: I’ll take the same risks as everybody else at this agency. And I don’t plan to stop.”

He hammed his palm on the desk, and she winced.

“No, it wasn’t bloody clear, Ellacott!”, he almost yelled. “Do you know why? Because when I took you back, I assumed you would be _fucking responsible—_ “

And at that, Robin seized her bag and left, so quickly that Strike didn’t even manage to stop his sentence in time, his last words echoing in the empty office.


	9. "I don't plan to stop" + "Tell me again" + "We have to be quiet" (B)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sort of "fix-it" of the missing fight scene in TB.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,
> 
> I hadn't planned on writing this scene, especially after we got that pitch perfect version done by @Kate88, but I read the prompts and it was all I could think about.
> 
> However, I completely forgot that Robin stormed out until I was well into it, so I ended up with 2 versions lol, one of them being a "fix-it" of sorts. Thought it might interest someone, so decided to post both!
> 
> The one in this chapter is the alternative version, and in the previous chapter there's the book-accurate version. The beginning for both is the same. For that, I would recommend reading the previous chapter first. 
> 
> It's 3 in 1, too, because I got behind again (also, I kinda like doing more prompts in one story, it's a bit like a puzzle).
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

“Tell me again”, said Strike through his teeth. His rage was contained, but noticeable all the same - his working jaw and tense posture gave it away, as did the clenched up fists resting on his desk, which now supported the full weight of his body.

“I already told you everything”, responded Robin, irritated. She was standing on the other side of their desk, and despite doing quite clearly a better job of hiding her anger, she was boiling up inside. “I don’t understand why you need to hear it again.”

“No, you don’t _fucking understand_ , do you?” he said, his voice louder with each word. “I need to be fucking _sure”,_ he continued, _“_ that we won’t have the bloody mafia knocking at our door. That a difficult concept to grasp, is it?”

Robin shot him a cool stare.

“We need to be quiet, Strike”, she said, her voice level. “The staff…”

“Oh, so _now_ you’re concerned with the bloody staff, are you?”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Robin asked, indignantly, her nostrils flaring. “If _anyone_ here shows any concern, I’m pretty sure that –“

Strike snorted, but there was no joy in his laugh.

“Ah, _that”_ , he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Yeah, Robin, now that’s just a _perfect fucking time_ to discuss the staff’s touchy-feely needs! When we’re discussing how your reckless actions might have put all of them, of us, in danger!”

She finally lost her temper, a red color now spreading through her face.

“And by reckless actions, I suppose you mean doing my job!”

“Oh yeah, your grand job of saving the whole bloody world, right?” he snarled.

Robin felt as if she’d been slapped.

“You know _perfectly well_ ”, she said in a high pitch, her finger raised, “that my visit to Ricci was strictly about the case. So there’s really no point for you to bring _that_ up, unless it’s to purposefully hurt me.”

That seemed to hit deeply Strike. He closed his eyes to try to compose himself, breathing heavily.

“You’re right, though”, Robin continued, boldly. “I have morals and ideals that I try to uphold at this job, and they’re the whole bloody reason I do this -- so if you don’t like that, Strike, I’m sorry, but I have some bad news for you.”

He opened his eyes, his gaze focusing on her with intensity, as if he was trying to see into her very soul.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice quieter than it had been since the beginning of the discussion. “What would that be, Ellacott?”

She looked at him with a level gaze, her chin held up high.

“I don’t plan to stop”, she said, serious. “But I think you already know that. Don’t you?” she challenged him.

He studied her for a moment.

“I do”. He swallowed. “And I wouldn’t want you to”, he admitted, sighing. He briefly closed his eyes again and rubbed his forehead, before continuing. “I’m not a bloody cynic, either, Robin. Would hate for you to think I am. And frankly, would hate it if you were one, too.”

She simply nodded, her face softening.

“But I’m serious, Robin, you _have to know—_ “

“I do”, she interrupted. She knew, of course, the words hanging on his lips: _I worry about you_. She couldn’t fail to, and yet, she didn’t really feel like hearing them just now. “I do know, Cormoran.”

He arched his eyebrow.

“ _I mean it_ ”, she insisted.

Strike sighed, relieved.

“Well”, he said. “And by that you mean something’s gonna change, or is it another thing you don’t plan to stop, then?”

She chuckled.

“Funny.” She stared at him. “I understand you, Cormoran. But you know where I stand about the risks at this job. And no, I don't intend to change about _that_.”

He waited, noticing her emphasis on the last word.

“I suppose, though”, she continued, “that we could reach a compromise.”

“I’m listening.”

“I promise not to do anything like that again without telling you, if…” she paused. “If you’re reasonable when I suggest the idea. And by that I mean - if you actually _consider_ it and discuss it _with me_ , the same way you would if it was for any other employee – including you.”

He nodded in understanding, studying her.

“And, I suppose, if I don’t…”

She shook her head, biting her lip.

“I’m serious, Strike. If we shake on this, and the issue continues, well…you just _know_ that I will eventually do it again, don’t you? Honestly, the way I see it, your only other option…” she paused for a moment, knowing full well that this gambit could pay very poorly. She took a deep breath. “Will be to fire me again”, she concluded, in a decided tone.

Strike stared at her, surprised at her words and at the tone she had delivered them with. He thought he might had never heard her speak so seriously.

He considered his next words very carefully. He didn’t like to be challenged, to be given an ultimatum like this, and Robin was well aware of that. That she would even suggest it spoke volumes about the weight the subject must carry for her. And, even if he knew she had been incredibly irresponsible, he had to admit that his approach to the issue so far had done nothing in helping protecting her – quite the opposite, in fact.

Finally, he decided to speak exactly the words that were on his mind.

“Doesn’t sound like I have much of an option, then.”

For a moment, Robin panicked, believing that she had misjudged the situation entirely, that her bet had gone terribly wrong -- and the word _reckless_ , carrying all sorts of hurt and irony, fluttered through her mind. A second later, though, she saw that Strike had extended his hand in her direction.

After the split second it took for its meaning to reach her, relief washing over her, she took it, decidedly.

“Ellacott”, he said, his voice grave.

“Strike”, she responded resolutely.

The success of the deal drawn at that moment, they both knew, was of the utmost importance to the continuing of their partnership - and as such, its momentousness didn’t escape them.

Even so, if the handshake that sealed it lasted longer than what for all intends and purposes was required, neither partner acknowledged it.


	10. "Do you believe me?" + "Don't look at me like that." + "I didn't mean to." + "Don't get up, I'll do it."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big changes incoming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled so much with this one, rewrote it three times. lol Hope it came out okay.  
> These kind of scenes are very hard not to stray too much of character, I think.
> 
> Somehow I'm managing to stay on top of the dates by doing multiple prompts in one fic, so I'm probably continuing this way hahaha

Strike was feeling happy. He had been happy a lot, lately, a realization that seldom failed to surprise him.

Tonight, in particular, he had specific reasons for those feelings, since they were celebrating closing an important case and settling the deal on the agency’s official new location. Still, he knew that all these reasons would mean nothing if it wasn’t for the one constant whenever he was feeling particularly good:

Her.

Robin caught his eye, a private conversation in the middle of the loud chat of their colleagues and clink of drinks of the pub, and smiled.

“Ah swear, thought bloke was gonnae stab me in the bloody face”, Barclay was saying, recounting the more exciting moments that had led him to close the case. “Can ye imagine, ruining this fucking treasure?” he gestured towards his face, and shook his head.

“In his defense”, said Michelle, raising an eyebrow. “If the face was already bloody…”

The others snorted, but Strike merely smiled, having missed the quip entirely.

One by one, then, their employees made their excuses and left the pub, until only but them remained. 

Discreetly, Strike assessed their drinks - both glasses only had a couple of sips in them. It was a reasonable time to end the evening.

Still, he couldn’t help but ask.

“Another?” He tilted his head in the direction of her drink.

She smiled.

“Sure.” He made to go, but she stopped him. “Don’t get up, I’ll do it.”

He knew she offered because his leg had been bad those days. Had any other person done it, he wouldn’t have appreciated it. But Robin’s words, he knew, had no ulterior meaning or subtext: they were a mere and simple offer based on fact.

He nodded in acquiescence and smiled. “Thanks”.

A few minutes later, she was back with their drinks. Sitting down, she took a sip of wine and caught his eye.

“Ellacott”, he said after a moment, raising his glass.

“Strike”, she responded, her gaze on him, hand toying with the rim of her glass. Her hair looked more golden than usual, in the warm light of the pub, and he found himself admired at it.

“So…say your goodbyes yet?” she asked.

“Hm?”

She raised her chin to indicate their surroundings.

“The Tottenham”, she said. “It will be only the rare occasion when we come here, now.”

He nodded.

“I’m sure we’ll find a pub within walking distance”, he shrugged.

“The perks of London”.

“Exactly.”

“Won’t be the same, though”. She looked around.

“No”, he said, slowly. “It won’t”.

She took another sip and rested her glass in the table.

“It doesn’t bother you?” she asked, curious.

“Not really”, he said. “Why?”

“Well”, she started. “I was thinking you’d miss it. It’s just that…you don’t do change so well, usually. If you don’t mind me saying.”

He rubbed his stub.

“I will miss it. And you’re right, usually. But I’ve been… warming up to it, s’ppose”. He paused, his gaze on hers. “Been thinking sometimes not changing is what fucks things up.” 

Robin raised her eyebrows.

“Strong words for Cormoran Strike”, was all that she said.

She held his gaze for a moment, and then looked away.

He didn’t.

“Besides”, he continued, his voice low, “I figure… everything I really need is coming with me, anyway.”

She didn’t respond, still watching the people in the pub, her hand fiddling with the fabric of her chair. She felt a bit like she was breathing water.

He, meanwhile, watched _her_ , and it felt like moving sand: the longer he looked, the more he sank until he could barely stand it anymore.

Finally, she turned to him. Their eyes locked for a moment, and then she shook her head.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

He nodded, defeated.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah”, she sighed. “I know”. Again she looked away.

Here they were again, he thought. Two steps forward, one behind. How many times more would they repeat this cycle?

They were already on the brink of so much change, though. If not now, then when?

And then he dived.

“Actually, no”, he said.

She looked at him, a question in her eyes.

“I did mean it.”

She raised her eyebrow.

“ _It_ , what?

“To look at you. Like _that_. I did mean it. Fuck’s sake, Robin, it’s all I ever want to do.”

She shook her head decidedly.

“See?”, said Robin, pointing her finger at him. “That. Exactly that. Don’t do that. It’s not fair”.

He looked at her, waiting.

“It’s not fair, Cormoran…” She closed her eyes for a moment. “Because I don’t think it’s true.”

“But it is, though”, he said, serious. “Do you believe me?”

Her eyes were challenging.

“Would we still be here, if it was?”

It was a fair question, he thought. For most people, he supposed, the whole situation would have been solved a long time ago. But most people wouldn’t have so much at stake. Most people wouldn’t have found absolutely every bloody thing they needed in a single person, so that if it went wrong, there would be no comeback, because there would simply be nothing to come back to.

“We might”, he finally said. “If one of us was fucking terrified.”

It was an honest admission, like perhaps he hadn’t uttered to her before.

“Well”, said Robin. “Perhaps there’s two people terrified, have you thought about that?”

He shook his head.

“Nonsense, Ellacott”. She raised one eyebrow. “You’re never afraid of anything.”

She chuckled.

“That’s not true”, she said.

“It isn’t? Riddle me this, then. If I had asked you”, he started, his voice hoarse. “If I'd asked you, at your wedding, _‘Come with me’._ Would you have?”

Her eyes widened at the question. That was about the last thing she had expected.

Still, the answer was obvious.

“I would”.

The words echoed in the space between them, the clinking of glasses and their thumping hearts all that was heard.

Strike swallowed hard, digesting the bittersweet confirmation of many _what-ifs._

“See what I mean”, he said with a sad smile. “You would… But I didn’t.”

“No”, she said. “You didn’t”.

He held her gaze for a long moment before speaking.

“I wanted to, though. I wanted to, every bloody day after, but couldn’t bring myself to do it.” He sighed, rubbing his forehead, his eyes closed. “Fucking coward”, he muttered, before looking at her. “But I did, Robin. Still do.” He searched her eyes. “Do you believe me?”

And, after his words and what she now saw in his eyes, how could she not?

She nodded, slowly.

“The thing is, though, Robin”, he said, and took a breath. “I think I’m tired of being afraid.”

She watched him, her eyes widened, a prickle in their corner announcing of tears.

“So what I want to know, I suppose, is…”, he continued, closing his eyes to take a breath, before looking at her again. “What would you say, if I were to ask you now?”

She took a moment to answer.

“My answer has always been the same, Cormoran”, she said, honestly, and his heart skipped a beat.

There it was, the final answer, his opening clear as if someone had punched a hole in the wall in a dark room, the sunlight breaking in.

Even so, the impending shift was so enormous that he still felt paralyzed.

Robin seemed to understand.

“It would be a lot of change for one day”, she said kindly.

That woke him up.

“I’m warming up to change”, he responded eagerly. This was big change, he knew, but it was good change. It was great, phenomenal change. “Told you earlier…”

“Sometimes not changing is what ruins things”, she completed, and he nodded. “I agree. Still, strong words for Cormoran Strike”, she repeated herself. What had been a subtle accusation, before, was now a final opportunity for an out that she was handing to him.

He didn’t seem to be taking it, she realized. His face was closer. She could clearly see the wrinkles around his eyes – which, dark as she’d ever seen, she could also now see had hazel traces on them.

His hand cupped her face softly, his thumb tracing her cheek.

“Yeah”. His face was now inches from hers. “You wouldn’t really hear me say them to anyone else”, he said, and then his lips were on hers.

It was only several moments later, their foreheads touching and a smile on her lips, that she responded.

“I know”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about the horrible pun from Michelle. lol  
> Also Barclay's accent.
> 
> And sort of unintentional references to P&P and B99 (lol? the combination) if you catch them.


	11. "Keep it." + "I'm flattered you're jealous" + "I wasn't ready."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin looks at old pictures of Strike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scenario was mentioned some time ago in the Denmark Street discord, and I realized I had some ideas of what Robin's reaction might be... and it matched up pretty well with this set of prompts.  
> So thanks for that!
> 
> Thanks also for everyone helping me today with expressions to describe Strike's grumpy face! 😂

“Oh. My. God. Cormoran!”, Robin said, looking at the photo of a little boy she had in her hands. “You were so cute!”

Strike sighed, looking behind her shoulder at the picture she’d taken from the box of mementos resting on the table, the only collection of such things he actually kept.

“I knew this would be a bad idea”, he said, shaking his head but nevertheless grinning.

“Oh, come on” Robin protested, laughing. “How can it be a bad idea for me to see this cute little thing? I bet no one would _ever_ imagine you’d grow up to get a... face like thunder like that, by the way. Look how approachable you are here!”

Strike snorted.

“Like thunder, eh? You seem to like my face well enough”, he said, with a lopsided grin, and lowered his head to kiss her neck. “Do I need to prove just how approachable I am?”

Robin laughed and turned her head to press a light kiss to his lips.

“Well, you _can_ be pretty intimidating -- which, by the way, I’m sure you’re very fine with”. She raised one eyebrow. “I just happen to be immune to that.”

“Oh you do, do you?” he asked, grinning and passing his arm around her waist.

“Absolutely. I can see through you, Strike” she said with a wink, and then turned again to the pictures in her hands. Taking the next photo from the bottom of the pile, she suddenly fell silent.

The picture was of a young Strike-- late 20s, she imagined --wearing his military uniform, among a few of fellow soldiers. His appearance was not that much different than now, the most apparent changes being his physical fitness and the lack of wrinkles around his eyes. Still, something about him spoke of a different person – less weary, more optimistic… More _whole_ , not only for the accident still a few years ahead of him, but also, she suspected, for all the experiences and disappointments he was, at that moment, still to live.

The Cormoran Strike in the picture, she thought, had no idea he would one day meet one Robin Ellacott, who, no older than 18 or 19 at the time, was still blissfully unaware, too, of what the future reserved for her.

Robin stared at the picture in her hands, and felt her heart ache with the mourning of something hard to describe. Was it even possible to mourn something you never had?

“I really liked that base”, Strike said. “Think that’s probably my only picture from there.”

He seemed slightly saddened by the sight of this younger self, but otherwise unaware of the turmoil going on inside of Robin.

“So what do you think of him?” he asked in a tone that suggested banter. “Scary? Approachable? Handsome?” He raised his eyebrow.

“Uh…yeah. All of the above”, replied Robin, absently.

He moved to look at her properly, and frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

Robin sighed, but didn’t reply immediately, trying to untangle it herself.

She wholeheartedly loved Cormoran, the man he was right now. She knew the one looking at her from the picture was, in many ways, a stranger. And she had never really cared about their age difference.

Still in that moment, a bittersweet feeling in her chest, a part of her couldn’t help but wonder… _what if_?

In another life… could everything have been different? Had she been older, or him younger, _was there_ an universe in which they could have found each other earlier, be awarded with more time together than they ended up having? One in which they would not have wasted so much with the wrong people, wrong situations, wrong lives?

“Were you and Charlotte together around this time?”, she found herself asking, much to Strike’s surprise.

In the few months they had been together, and despite the insecurities he knew she’d had, for they had in fact discussed them, Robin had never really showed any feelings of jealousy. He appreciated this fact dearly, and perhaps because of it, found himself more curious than annoyed at her question.

“Is that what this is about?” he asked, cautiously. “I mean, I’m flattered you’re jealous, love, but you know you have nothing to worry about, right?” His voice was quiet and kind.

She looked at him.

“I know”, she gave a small smile. “I suppose I _am_ jealous…but not for those kinds of reasons.”

He frowned.

“What reasons, then?”

“She had so much time with you, Cormoran”, she said, sighing. “See got to see so much of you that I never will.” She was silent for a moment, her eyes shiny. “And don’t get me wrong”, she continued. “I love who you are now, and would never exchange what we have for anything. I know we have all the time ahead of us. I just somehow… wish we had more.”

Strike looked at her for a long moment, a tender expression in his eyes.

“Yeah”, he said quietly. “I s’ppose I can understand that. What I wouldn’t give to have you rid of that twat earlier… even if I still had to wait to have you. Even if it was just to have had more time with you as a partner, happy and carefree, not having to worry about him.”

She smiled, and then glanced at him, unsure.

“Also, to be honest”, she said. “I’m a bit jealous of you, too.”

His eyebrows shot up.

“Of me? Why?”

“Well… you met me in my twenties, right? You’ll get to see me in my thirties. As for me, though…I don’t know.” She paused, thinking. “I guess I looked at this young Cormoran in the picture, and it occurred to me I’ll never get to meet him. For _me_ , all this time you had before is… lost. I can’t ever get it back.”

Strike had never considered that. He felt lucky, indeed, that he would get to share with Robin this phase of her life, to witness how the way she was fearlessly finding herself - he would hate to lose that. But, even though he did wish he had more time with her, he didn’t regret in the slightest that Robin would never meet his 20-something self.

“Robin, love”, he said. “I understand you. That guy _is_ too handsome to resist”. He raised his eyebrow, and she chuckled. “But you really aren't losing anything by not having met him. To be honest... he was kind of an arse.” He grinned for a moment, but then his face went serious. “He wasn’t ready for you. I wasn’t ready.”

Robin stared absently at the picture for a moment before turning to him.

“Maybe you could have been, though”, she said, pondering. “If we met earlier. Before…” she trailed off. Before you met her. Before you got your leg blown off. Before you suffered so much.

He shook his head.

“No, I don’t think I would have been”, he said, and then paused. “Look, Robin… what is done is done, and there’s things we will simply never know. No point, I think, dwelling in them.”

She let out a sight.

“Yeah, I know.”

Strike continued,

“The only path I know, for sure, the outcome of, is… the one I took. And the outcome is here, this moment. So what that means for me is…There’s really nothing that I regret.”

Robin’s eyes widened.

“Nothing?”

The word implied many things, sacrifices he would have been willing to make for what they had. Some of them, she thought, unthinkable.

He shook his head, serious.

“Nothing.” He paused. “I’d live through it all again, though, if it meant sparing you of what you went through.”

Robin’s eyes had welled up with tears, which she wiped with her hands.

“Yeah, I know”, she said, embracing Strike, who kissed the top of her head. “I guess you’re right. What matters is that we are here.”

“Here is pretty good, eh?”, he asked, grinning down at her.

“It really is”, she smiled. “Well, I think I might be done with memories for today.” She handed him the pile of pictures.

He accepted them, but took the one in the top and handed it to her.

“Keep it”.

She frowned.

“Didn’t you say it’s the one picture from that base?”

“Yeah”, he said. “But it doesn’t matter. You should keep it. Maybe look at it every once in a while, when you get tired of my old, grumpy face”.

She laughed.

“I’m not going to get tired, told you I can see through it.” She raised her eyebrow.

He grinned.

“Yeah, I know you do. May look like the grumpiest, but am in fact the happiest Cormoran Strike”. He paused. “And you know that”. He searched her eyes for confirmation.

She smiled. His happiness, she thought, the same as hers... was undeniable.

“I do”.


	12. "Let it go." + "Do you really mean it?" + "People will talk." + "I don't think so."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanessa's wedding is approaching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little bit silly.

“We could go together”, Strike found himself inexplicably saying.

His heart beating fast in his chest, he looked expectantly at Robin, sitting in their joint desk.

“Together? I don’t know”, she said absently, frowning at Vanessa’s wedding invitations. “The venue is much closer from here, wouldn’t really make sense for you.”

Strike closed his eyes for a moment, taking a breath.

“That’s, uh… not what I mean”, he said, his voice quiet.

Robin’s head shot up.

“Oh?”

He swallowed.

“I…do you already have a date?”

Robin blinked.

“No”, she said, after a moment.

Strike let out a breath of relief.

“And you didn’t, uh… have someone else in mind?”

“No”, she said, slowly. “Wasn’t really planning on going with anyone… else.”

“Right”, he nodded. “So”, he continued, clearing his throat. “We could go. Together”.

She was silent for a moment.

“People will talk”, she said, cautiously.

He grinned.

“Nothing new there, I s’ppose.”

She chuckled.

“Yeah, guess you’re right”. She looked at him. “Alright, then.”

They smiled at each other, and Robin turned her eyes to her computer.

Her heart, though, was all over the place. Had he just did what she thought he had? Did she even want to know, for sure?

 _Let it go_ , she thought. _You’re reading too much into it. Just let it be and see how it goes there._

The words tumbled out of her mouth, anyway.

“Would they be wrong, Cormoran?” she asked in a quiet voice, still looking at her screen.

He looked at her.

“Who?”

She chanced a glance at him.

“The…people. Would they be wrong?”

It took a second for her meaning to reach his brain.

He panicked for a moment, but knew it was too late. No backing out now.

“No”, he responded, slowly. “I don’t think so.”

She looked at him for a long moment, and then nodded.

“Okay”, she said softly.

He raised his eyebrows. That easy?

“Okay”, he repeated.

They stared at each other for a moment, hearts and minds racing.

“Do you really mean it?”

“D’you really mean it?”

They asked in unison, and then grinned at each other.

“Guess it’s a date, then”, he said.

She smiled brightly.

“It’s a date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was thinking the other day about the likelihood of an U.S. office's jim-and-pam matter-of-fact scenario, and came up with this. Of course being them it's not as straightforward. lol


	13. “I have the right to be worried” + “Why did you do it?” + “Stay behind me.” + “I’m trying my best.”+ “How much do you know?” + “You don’t have to stay.”+”Of course I remembered!”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An injury leads to a heart-to-heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't believe I did all the prompts this time, yay! Thanks so much for them @hidetheteaspoons !!
> 
> About this chapter:
> 
> Okay so first, it's the first time I write anything action/suspense, so bear with me and hope it's not too confusing!  
> Also first of another thing, that I'll mention in the end...
> 
> And kinda want to mention that I wrote the action part in one sitting almost a week ago and then spent an absurd amount of time fiddling with the final parts. So in the end kinda the whole thing lost its meaning, like all of the words, and I have no idea anymore LOL and the suspense turns into tooth-rotting fluff in the end so ?? idk.
> 
> This also turned out quite long, as a heads up.  
> Hope you enjoy it!

It was the humming of lights and smell of antiseptic that let Strike know, even before his drowsy mind caught up to speed with things, that something was wrong.

As a response to his lightest movement, however, he felt a gentle squeeze in his hand, and he knew, immediately, that at least something had to be right.

Opening his eyes with difficulty, he turned his head slightly and saw her, and couldn’t help his mouth from forming a smile.

Her puffy eyes were suddenly flooded with relief.

“Cormoran”, Robin said, softly. “How are you feeling?”

He tried to regain his grip on what had happened.

“Are you okay?”, he asked, his eyes widened. He tried to sit better and felt a sharp pain in his shoulder, letting out a grunt.

She chuckled lightly.

“Me? You’re the one who was shot.”

He let out a sigh.

“So you’re…” he asked, his eyes searching her for any signs of injuries.

She smiled.

“Yeah, I am okay. Only a few scratches.” He opened his mouth, but she cut him. “The doctors examined me, and I’m totally okay. Don’t worry.”

Placated at last, he nodded.

“How are _you_ feeling, Cormoran?”

“Bastard pain in the shoulder”, he said, “Otherwise okay.” He paused. “Arm’s still here, though, so s’ppose I can’t complain”. He grinned at her, expecting her to roll her eyes, but she merely looked at him with that fond and relieved expression. Her eyes seemed wet.

“Bullet’s gone?” he asked, after a moment.

“They took it a couple hours ago. Said everything went well.”

He nodded again, taking a deep breath.

“I… let some people know”, Robin said, cautiously. “Ilsa and Nick stopped by before. He is on shift but will return in a couple hours. Lucy will probably be here tomorrow.” She paused. “But I let her know you seemed okay.”

He looked at her for a moment.

“Okay. Thanks.”

Robin’s eyebrows’ shot up at his easy acceptance, but she didn’t say anything.

“What time is it?”, he asked.

Robin checked her watch.

“Almost four in the morning.”

His eyes widened.

“Christ, you must be knackered”, he said, and looked at her with soft eyes. “Please, Robin. You don’t have to stay. Go home and rest.”

She shook her head decidedly, tears forming in her eyes again.

Then, her voice quiet, she asked what she most wanted to know.

“Why did you do it?”

\--

Hours earlier

The building was dark and cold, chill air currents hitting them every few steps. They walked slowly through the corridor, watching out for construction debris on the floor, guided only by the moonlight entering from the high windows and a flashlight in Strike’s hand. Robin, walking behind him, used the one in her cell phone.

She noticed his breath came short and thick, and imagined he must be in pain.

“Is your leg okay?” she whispered.

“Fine”, he grunted back. “Stay behind me.”

“I am”.

Suddenly, Strike stopped, and Robin barely avoided colliding with him.

He shook his head and turned to her.

“I don’t like this, Robin”, he said in an anxious mutter. “I can feel it’s not safe. We’re close to the entrance. Go back. Wait for Wardle there.”

She shook her head decidedly.

“I told you I’m not gonna let you come alone”, she whispered back.

He sighed, passing his hand through his hair.

“So let’s wait for him there. He’ll be here in 20 minutes. It’s nothing”. He was almost pleading.

“Nothing for us”. Her gray eyes were clear and defiant. “But what about her?”

Strike sighed, his dark eyes dancing while he made a decision.

Of course she was right. Had he been alone, he would never consider waiting for Wardle. But he knew Robin would never accept him going alone, and he was well aware he had no way of explaining to her why he was so adamant she didn’t go, when she was his partner, in the first place.

“Fine”, he finally said, with a sigh. “Stay behind me.”

She rolled her eyes.

\--

They continued walking in silence for a few more minutes through the abandoned building, watching out for any noise that might alert them to the presence of the abducted woman or her kidnappers.

Finally, reaching the end of a long corridor with empty door frames in either side, they heard what sounded like a man’s voice. It sounded as if coming from another room beyond the one they were next to, the echo through the empty space making it hard to understand his words.

Strike had put his hand behind him to stop Robin from walking forward.

“Sounds like he’s on the phone” she whispered.

He nodded.

“Do you think she’s here?”

“Seems likely”, he muttered back.

His mind was racing through the possibilities. His heart was filled with fear and regret. How much longer would he be able to take this? How could this _ever_ work, if he felt like his heart was being teared apart each time his _partner_ , the person that was supposed to have his back, was in danger?

Panic rising in his chest, he couldn’t help the words leaving his mouth.

“Turn back”, he muttered, turning to her.

Robin cursed.

“I told you I’m not”, she whispered angrily.

“I’m saying we’re turning back”.

“You’ve no right to do this.”

“I have the right to be worried”, he said, in a slightly higher volume than he had intended.

Silence followed. Silence that sent a chill down their spines.

A moment later, they heard noises. Someone was coming their way.

“Hurry”, Strike whispered. “On the…” but Robin was already moving towards the room on their left, his hand in tow.

The room, they quickly realized, was completely empty. If someone were to spy there, despite the darkness, they would certainly see them. In the farthest wall, there was another open doorframe. Looking at each other for a fraction of a moment, they started moving towards it, Strike as quickly and silently as his leg would allow.

They entered the other room just in time for steps to be heard at the place they had just left. Their backs resting in the wall, breathing heavily but as silently as possible, they waited until the footsteps disappeared through the long corridor they had just walked, and then looked at each other, a question in the air.

When Strike looked at Robin’s sure eyes and pressed lips, though, he knew he had no choice. Best if at least he was in control of the situation.

“C’mon”, he said in a quiet voice. “We have to be quick”.

With a slight smile, Robin started to follow him back to the doorway of the other room, where they paused, listening. After a moment, Strike looked at her and signaled for them to go through the corridor to the room on the right.

That room, too, was empty, and looked just like the one they had just left, except that the open door frame was on the wall opposite the one that separated the room from the corridor. They could hear a quiet cry, and Robin felt a tightening in her chest.

With muted signals to each other, they walked hurriedly to the doorway, and found themselves in a room that, at last, seemed to have been recently occupied. There was a simple wooden desk and a chair. Upon the desk there were some provisions: a big water jug, a thermos and supermarket paper bags. In the corner, they saw a mattress with crumpled blankets. In the wall across from them, for the first time that evening, they encountered a closed door. The cry was more audible.

They exchanged a glance, agreeing silently that the woman must be in the other side. They tried for the handle, which showed the door was locked. Within seconds, Robin had pulled pins from her pocket and was using it to pick the lock.

Strike’s eyebrows shot up, but he otherwise said nothing, quickly turning to watch the open door frame behind them, his brow furrowed and breath sharp.

“Hurry”, he muttered after a couple of minutes, just in time for a click to be heard and Robin to turn to him, her eyebrow raised.

“Stay…”

Before he could complete the thought, she stepped aside, going to stand behind him and gesturing at the door. He let out a subtle grin before slowly moving the handle.

He let the door open slowly, waiting for any sign of movement or sound other than the quiet laments of the woman. He chanced a glance into the room, and was relieved to see that she was indeed alone.

“It’s clear”, he said, taking Robin’s hand to move her along with him.

The woman’s eyes widened at the sight of them, and Robin wondered if she knew who they were. She was tied up in a chair in the middle of the room. The room was empty but for another mattress. She started to make noises, and Robin quickly took one finger to her own mouth so signal her to be quiet.

“It’s okay, Amanda”, Robin whispered, going to her. “We’re getting you out of here.”

Strike had already reached her, too, and, taking a Swiss knife from his pocket, started sawing off the ropes that tied her arms. After taking off the tape that covered her mouth, Robin quickly started at her feet.

The woman took deep breaths, trying to calm herself, as they worked. After a couple of minutes, though, she let out a whimper.

Strike and Robin looked up and quickly turned to the door, where a man was now standing.

He seemed in his late forties, and had dark blond hair and a wiry frame. He also had a gun, that was now been aimed at them.

Robin and Strike slowly rose to their feet.

“Don’t move”, the man said, in a cool voice. “Hands behind your heads.”

They did as were told.

“How much do you know?” he asked.

“Enough”, Strike said. “Enough to get the police here. Which will be happening in a couple minutes.”

The man laughed.

“Right. I don’t buy that.” He shook his head. His hand, however, remained steady, holding the gun in their direction. “Think I don’t know who you are? The celebrity detectives? You don’t work with the cops.”

Strike gritted his teeth.

Amanda was crying copiously now.

“You’re wrong”, Robin piped up, trying to keep her voice level. “We not only work with, but have close friends in law enforcement. One of them is on his way now. I assure you, anything you do here, you will regret.”

He chuckled.

“How cute, the faithful sidekick. Yeah…” he said, slowly. “I think I’m gonna start with you.”

The movement of his hand, aiming the barrel at Robin, felt, to Strike, like in slow motion.

Even so, and even if he and Robin were standing close, had he hesitated for even a fraction of a second, he wouldn’t have been able to do what he did.

Without a second’s thought, however, he jumped in front of Robin, them both falling to the ground in the process, the bullet hitting him in the shoulder.

“Cormoran!” cried Robin, but that wasn’t the only voice heard.

Before the man could trigger again, he was tackled by a police officer who had just entered the room, along with a few other policemen, including Wardle. They hurriedly took the gun from the kidnapper and went to free Amanda, while Wardle hurried to where Strike and Robin were, still lying in the floor. Panting, their faces close, it took them a moment to recover.

“Cormoran”, Robin said again. “Oh my God”, she said, managing to take herself off from under him, and kneeling in the floor. “Oh my God, Cormoran, you were shot”, she cried. “Wardle!” she turned to the detective.

Strike felt a little dazed.

“Are you okay?” he panted, and she nodded. “Don’t worry”, he said, “It will take a while to start hurting like a bastard. Adrenaline does that”.

“Oh God, Cormoran”, Robin repeated, taking her hand to his forehead, and he closed his eyes for a moment, before looking at her.

“And to think I didn’t even asked you to go home, this time. Only to wait outside.” He grinned.

Despite her worry, she couldn’t help but be surprised at his allusion to the first time they found themselves in a similar situation, when she had hit John Bristow.

“I can’t believe you remembered that”, she said.

“Of course I remembered”, he said, with a chuckle. “I have to ask you something to that effect every other week.”

\--

Sitting next to Strike in the hospital room, watching him sleep, Robin was overwhelmed with the immense relief of knowing that he was alright. If he hadn’t been…she didn’t even want to consider that.

Still, one thought kept popping up in her head.

 _He saved my life_.

It wasn’t the first time he had done that. And she had, indeed, always assumed he would go to great lengths for her safety. This time, however, it felt different.

This was no rushing to find her when she had been attacked by Laing.

This was no hurrying to save her from Raphael’s empty gun.

This had been actually, jumping-in-front-of, taking-a-bullet-for her. Putting her life above his own, without a second thought.

He probably would have done that for anyone, she thought. Would he had done it with the same certainty for everyone, though?

And then there was the other thing on her mind. Even before doing that, he had asked her, twice, to turn back. Even if he had showed concern in the past, she did not expect this, in that situation, with him being there, too.

She needed to understand. And so, the first thing she did when she made sure he was okay was… ask him.

\--

“Why did you do it?”

“Did what?”

She shook her head, biting her lip.

“You saved my life.”

He looked at her and shrugged.

“You saved mine first.”

“That hardly compares, Cormoran”, Robin said. “I landed a blow in Bristow’s head. You _took a bullet_ for me.”

“No”. It was his time to shake his head. “Earlier. You saved my life earlier.”

She frowned.

“Wh—“

“You saved my life when you showed up at my door, Robin.”

Her eyes widened.

“Cormoran—“ she started, but no other words came out for a while. She could feel tears welling up again.

“Why did you do it?” she finally asked, again.

He took a moment to answer.

“Because I care about you, Robin.”

She had expected to hear platitudes about him being responsible for her at the job, and so these words felt heavy, landed with soft thud between them.

Even so, he looked intently at her, and somehow both knew that wasn’t the unabridged truth.

Robin’s head was spinning, a lump forming in her throat.

“You care about me? Is that why you kept telling me to go back?” she asked in a quiet voice.

He simply nodded.

“You do realize, though”, she started. “That we were only heard because we were arguing about safety?”

He closed his eyes, reclining his head in the pillow. Of course he realized. He realized it right at that second. If anything, tonight had been a wake-up call.

“Yes. I do.”

She waited, but he didn’t continue.

“Cormoran, I…I understand you” she said quietly. “And I know I’ll probably sound ungrateful right now, and it’s not-- I _am_ grateful, Cormoran. So, so very much.” Her voice trembled a bit. “But I just… I just don’t know how we can solve this. My point is… do you realize it’s not actually making me safer, you worrying like this?”

It was true, and because of it, it felt like a knife through his heart.

He let out a sigh.

“I do, Robin. I’m sorry. I—I’m trying my best. I swear. I just…” he trailed off.

Hearing such an honest apology broke her heart a little.

“I care about you too, you know”, she said, squeezing his hand harder. “And I worry about you, too. Do you know why I don’t freak out when _you_ ’re in danger, though?”

He looked at her, shaking his head.

“Because I trust you”. He swallowed hard. “I trust you to decide at the moment, to act right, to be as safe as possible. And I know that I can’t ask for more than that.” She paused. “Do you not trust me?” she asked, sincerely.

“I do”, he responded quickly. “With my life.”

“Then why…”

“It’s different”, he said.

“Why?”

He closed his eyes again, letting out a deep sigh. Robin was surprised to see that he was squeezing her hand back, strongly.

How could he say it? How could he explain reasons for he acting as he did, when they shouldn’t even exist in the first place?

Perhaps it was the medication, or the result of the long, eventful day that made him suddenly too tired to continue to try and hide the truth.

After a long moment, he turned to Robin, his eyes boring intently into hers.

“I’m in love with you, Robin”, he said, his voice grave.

His words echoed in the small hospital room.

Robin’s mouth fell open, her heart skipping a beat.

“You’ve no idea”, he continued, and she was startled to realize his voice was trembling. “From that very first day… you’ve no idea how hard I tried, to…” He took a breath. “Not to fancy you.”

She swallowed, taking her other hand to wipe tears in the corner of her eyes.

“Suppose I managed for a while -- or lied to myself that I did --, but you, _you_ … and I _knew_ it would be trouble”, he added, raising his eyebrows, his voice anxious. “I knew. I’m sorry. I tried my best, I swear to God, to not let this happen. But it did. So I figure in the very least I owe you the truth. It’s not because I don’t trust you that I lose my bearings when you’re in danger. It’s because…I love you.”

Robin thought her heart might escape her chest at any moment.

If his admission at her being his best friend had once shocked her into silence, his words now, paradoxically, carried a truth so evident that, even though she had been taken by surprise, it felt like a part of her somehow already knew.

The truth was, even if she had denied herself of admitting it, this admission was, in many ways, something she had been waiting to hear for a long time. And still, along with the feeling of blissful happiness she had felt before, she realized with surprise that it was now accompanied by a bittersweet ache.

This, this actually changed things. She could feel the floor shifting beneath them, their old, _safe_ dynamic being left behind, forever.

But, she thought, maybe it always had been like this. These feelings had clearly been there for far longer than either had been willing to admit. It didn’t make sense for them to suppose they could have been living in a lie. If anything, tonight had proven it beyond doubt.

“Why did you try to stop it?”, she asked, her voice quiet.

“After your divorce, you mean?” She nodded. “Because I knew it would change things”, he said. “And tonight, well, just bloody proved it, eh? I’d just thought it would be a billion other bloody things – the agency, the job – not _this_.”

He swallowed.

“This… I had not anticipated. And it was a glaring oversight, because I let it get in the way, and of course it colored how I treated you, and it ended up putting you in danger, which is the last bloody thing I ever wanted in the first place”.

“Oh, Cormoran”, she said, and he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. She took the hand that wasn’t in his to his cheek, and he closed his eyes for a moment.

“It’s not different, though”.

He snapped his eyes open and looked at her.

“I was already wondering if I was in love with you… on my honeymoon”, she admitted. “I wish I had been honest with myself and realized… that I was. I love you, too”.

Strike remained in stunned silence for a moment.

“Christ, Robin”, was all that he managed, his voice hoarse.

The silence stretched for a while, both aware of the question that needed to be addressed.

“All those things you said”, Robin started, her thumb grazing his hand. “How it would change the agency… do you still…”

“No”, he said quickly. “I don’t care about them anymore.”

She nodded, and then looked in his eyes.

She saw it there.

“But the other thing…” she prompted, and he swallowed.

“I’m not sure how this is supposed to work, Robin”, he admitted, after a moment. “I want to share the work with you, and… so much more”, he said, his voice faltering. “But if I already feel like this now… what would it be like if…” he trailed off. _If I knew what it’s like to actually be with you?_

“But you’re already worried now”, Robin argued.

He nodded.

“Well then, Cormoran…” Robin started, her voice quiet. “Where does that leave us?”

The question felt like a sucker punch. Suddenly it hit Strike clearly: there was no option in which things would be like before, without this issue – especially because, things had _always_ had this issue in the first place.

For him to be able to move forward with her, in any way, it would require a leap; it would require change.

And the thing was, that the other option…he couldn’t bear it.

“I love you, Robin”, he said, earnestly. “I don’t want to lose you, in any way. I’ll do whatever. I just don’t know how it can work.”

She smiled.

“I do, Cormoran. I think you’re missing a very important point, here.”

He frowned.

“ _I’m okay_ ”, she said. “Granted, we could have avoided the danger, but I could be…” she paused, before continuing in a lower voice. “I could be dead right now, if it weren’t for you. And it’s not the first time I can say that, either.”

His eyes were dancing, trying to follow her thought.

“And you know I’ve done, and would have done the same for you. I’m not sure we’ll find other people whom we’ll have that with, though.” She paused. “You know I’ll be in this line of work either way, as I know you will. I don’t know if I could ever find anyone I felt safer with… and I would worry about you, too. I would hate not to be there with you.”

Robin looked intently at him.

“I don’t think it’s a weakness, Cormoran”, she finally said, softly. “It’s a strength: we know we’ll keep each other safe, no matter what. As long as we’re together, I’m not worried. And I think once you understand that… it’ll be a lot easier.”

Her words hit him like a balm, because he knew they were true.

What would he ever do without her?

Robin, always so very smart.

Who was never, ever unkind.

Who always had the right thing to say to make it all better.

 _Your Robin_ , would say so many people who cared about them…

“It’s probably gonna take me a while to reach that”, he uttered as a final, feeble resistance.

“It’s okay”, she said. “We can work through it… together.”

He swallowed.

“Together”, he repeated. “Me…”, he paused, taking her hand to his lips. “And _my_ Robin…”, and she saw there was a question in his eyes.

“Yes”, she said, her whole face smiling. Of course she was his. She had been for so, so long. “You and _your_ Robin.”

Taking her hand to cup his face, she pressed her lips on his.

\--

“Did you really mean”, she said, after a few moments, their foreheads touching, stupid smiles on their faces. “What you said about me changing your life? When I arrived?”

He grinned even wider, his eyes closed.

“’f course”, he said. “You changed by life so much, every bit for the better. Dunno where I would be if it weren’t for you… As a matter of fact”, he said, opening his eyes and moving his head to look at her, frowning. “I think it’s finally clear why I had so many shitty things happen before. I had to compensate for when you arrived”.

She felt tears prickling her eyes, but raised one eyebrow.

“Did I just hear Cormoran Strike talking about fate?”

He chuckled.

“Not exactly”, he said. “You can name it justice, if you’d like.”

She smiled fondly.

“Justice. Yes, that sounds more like you.”

“As ever”, he said, before lowering his head again, “Right you are, my Robin. Right you are…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo a while ago on discord I mentioned that I had never been able to write them saying "I love you" when they get together in a way that rang true. Got a lot of directions there (thanks!!) and so this is also a response to my self-imposed challenge to do that hahaah  
> Granted one of them had to get shot lol but I'll consider it as a victory anyway XD
> 
> About the overall theme/character choices... I was unsure about some of them, especially I think the theme of Strike's concern for Robin is difficult to grasp because it goes against his complete respect and trust in her, and she has been reckless in the past, but also I do think he is unreasonably concerned sometimes?  
> And when writing the missing fight scene, I realized that it only puts her in more danger, because then she can't tell him what she's doing, and the obvious solution for their problem it that he always has her back.  
> And it occurred to me that since CC, I don't think they've ever been at real risk while together, and it got me wondering about what his reaction would be like, now...and the obvious question: what about when they are together?
> 
> Also, yes I did go full harry potter with the idea "love makes us stronger" etc, because... well. XD
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it!


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